100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,634
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,634
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Whisper
Title: Whisper
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: M/F, lite exhibitionism
Summary: #42 – Whisper. If they used whispers, no one would suspect.
Word Count: 764 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. To be read after Prompt 39 – Taste.
Prompt 42 – Whisper
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, his pale hand wrapped over her mouth, his thumb resting upon the bridge of her nose.
She nodded, feeling his body pressed tight against hers. Hermione did not move as his hand slipped from her face to her neck, his fingers fitting over her throat.
“What are they saying?” he whispered even as he lifted her skirts from behind. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, her hair pulled up into a messy bun.
“They are not sure what to do with the information. They want to verify you are who you say you are…friend or foe,” Hermione whispered.
Only a sliver of light from the kitchen penetrated the dark corridor of Grimmauld Place, and it struck her amber eye, lighting it eerily.
She whimpered as she felt his left hand cool on the curve of her buttocks, his right hand still wrapped about her throat.
“What do you think, Hermione?” he whispered back, his hand moving to push aside her knickers.
Hermione took a deep breath, her eye catching movement as Ron stood from the kitchen table to stand next to Neville Longbottom who was pouring over a map…
“Friend or foe?” she asked breathlessly, her body stiffening against the door jamb she leaned against, her left shoulder pressed into the wall while her face craned toward the crack of the door.
He hummed even as he slapped his stiff cock against her buttocks.
“You know I am biased,” she hissed softly.
The voices in the kitchen raised, and she could hear Arthur Weasley’s voice.
He hummed again as the head slipped into her hot dampness. Hermione clenched her teeth lest she make a sound louder than whisper. She tried to glance back at him, but she could feel how his knees knocked into her calves, how the buttons of the front of his trousers pressed into her thighs.
“Friend or foe, Miss Granger?” he hissed.
Hermione whimpered as he slid up into her body, sheathing himself fully. His voice was just as erotic as the feel of him inside her body.
“I…” she whispered in a soft strain.
His hold about her throat tightened, and he stroked against her, eliciting a gasp.
“I…don’t….” she whimpered.
He thrust faster, only a whisper of her skirts against his belly making any noise. Letting his hand slip down from her throat to grasp her breast roughly, he gasped as her pussy contracted.
“I…don’t…care…” she whispered urgently, pushing back against him.
The voices in the kitchen were at a fever pitch, and Hermione let out a moan. At any moment someone would come out of the kitchen. The reformed-Order meeting was to be brief…
“Severus…” she whispered, her eyes slamming shut, her hands moving to grasp his…one over her breast, the other about her hip. “Severus…”
She could hear the scrape of the benches in the kitchen, the meeting was over.
“Severus!”
He was chuckling softly, but she could still hear the constraint in his voice.
Footsteps were coming closer to the door, and Hermione opened her eyes, wide…
When the door opened, Hermione watched Ron and Percy exit, but she was no longer by the door, but in a niche used as a broom cupboard, a simple gingham curtain hiding her from the eyes of the reformed-Order members. Nothing had changed except that Severus Snape was kissing the back of her neck as his thrusts came faster and deeper.
Hermione stifled a groan, a hand grasping the curtain, the other latched to Severus’ fingers upon her hip. She could not hear the members from the niche, their whispers too low, but she could hear Severus’ airy, and near silent laugh…relishing her fear as it was translated to the tight constriction of her lower body.
“I could be a spy…” he whispered into her ear.
Hermione frowned. “A…spy for…what? Your masters…are…dead…” she panted out in a whisper.
Severus chuckled, but suddenly choked softly.
Hermione’s head spun, unable to take anymore of Severus’ ministrations. With a whimper, corresponding with Severus’ choke, she was gone on a wave of silent climax. When her legs gave out, he caught her, and together they fell to the floor. He wanted to roar as he usually did when he filled her, but instead he whispered his satisfaction.
“I…have a new…mistress…” he ground out, cradling Hermione against him on the dark floor. “Much better than a master,” he panted.
Hermione grinned in the dark of the cupboard, listening as Severus smoothed down her skirts, causing the fabric to whisper against his hands.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: M/F, lite exhibitionism
Summary: #42 – Whisper. If they used whispers, no one would suspect.
Word Count: 764 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. To be read after Prompt 39 – Taste.
Prompt 42 – Whisper
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, his pale hand wrapped over her mouth, his thumb resting upon the bridge of her nose.
She nodded, feeling his body pressed tight against hers. Hermione did not move as his hand slipped from her face to her neck, his fingers fitting over her throat.
“What are they saying?” he whispered even as he lifted her skirts from behind. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, her hair pulled up into a messy bun.
“They are not sure what to do with the information. They want to verify you are who you say you are…friend or foe,” Hermione whispered.
Only a sliver of light from the kitchen penetrated the dark corridor of Grimmauld Place, and it struck her amber eye, lighting it eerily.
She whimpered as she felt his left hand cool on the curve of her buttocks, his right hand still wrapped about her throat.
“What do you think, Hermione?” he whispered back, his hand moving to push aside her knickers.
Hermione took a deep breath, her eye catching movement as Ron stood from the kitchen table to stand next to Neville Longbottom who was pouring over a map…
“Friend or foe?” she asked breathlessly, her body stiffening against the door jamb she leaned against, her left shoulder pressed into the wall while her face craned toward the crack of the door.
He hummed even as he slapped his stiff cock against her buttocks.
“You know I am biased,” she hissed softly.
The voices in the kitchen raised, and she could hear Arthur Weasley’s voice.
He hummed again as the head slipped into her hot dampness. Hermione clenched her teeth lest she make a sound louder than whisper. She tried to glance back at him, but she could feel how his knees knocked into her calves, how the buttons of the front of his trousers pressed into her thighs.
“Friend or foe, Miss Granger?” he hissed.
Hermione whimpered as he slid up into her body, sheathing himself fully. His voice was just as erotic as the feel of him inside her body.
“I…” she whispered in a soft strain.
His hold about her throat tightened, and he stroked against her, eliciting a gasp.
“I…don’t….” she whimpered.
He thrust faster, only a whisper of her skirts against his belly making any noise. Letting his hand slip down from her throat to grasp her breast roughly, he gasped as her pussy contracted.
“I…don’t…care…” she whispered urgently, pushing back against him.
The voices in the kitchen were at a fever pitch, and Hermione let out a moan. At any moment someone would come out of the kitchen. The reformed-Order meeting was to be brief…
“Severus…” she whispered, her eyes slamming shut, her hands moving to grasp his…one over her breast, the other about her hip. “Severus…”
She could hear the scrape of the benches in the kitchen, the meeting was over.
“Severus!”
He was chuckling softly, but she could still hear the constraint in his voice.
Footsteps were coming closer to the door, and Hermione opened her eyes, wide…
When the door opened, Hermione watched Ron and Percy exit, but she was no longer by the door, but in a niche used as a broom cupboard, a simple gingham curtain hiding her from the eyes of the reformed-Order members. Nothing had changed except that Severus Snape was kissing the back of her neck as his thrusts came faster and deeper.
Hermione stifled a groan, a hand grasping the curtain, the other latched to Severus’ fingers upon her hip. She could not hear the members from the niche, their whispers too low, but she could hear Severus’ airy, and near silent laugh…relishing her fear as it was translated to the tight constriction of her lower body.
“I could be a spy…” he whispered into her ear.
Hermione frowned. “A…spy for…what? Your masters…are…dead…” she panted out in a whisper.
Severus chuckled, but suddenly choked softly.
Hermione’s head spun, unable to take anymore of Severus’ ministrations. With a whimper, corresponding with Severus’ choke, she was gone on a wave of silent climax. When her legs gave out, he caught her, and together they fell to the floor. He wanted to roar as he usually did when he filled her, but instead he whispered his satisfaction.
“I…have a new…mistress…” he ground out, cradling Hermione against him on the dark floor. “Much better than a master,” he panted.
Hermione grinned in the dark of the cupboard, listening as Severus smoothed down her skirts, causing the fabric to whisper against his hands.